One Hundred Reasons Why the Turtles Are Awesome
by SewerSurfin
Summary: An undertaking of the 100 theme challenge. 005:Heaven. Heaven is many different things to many different people.
1. Intro

**Disclaimer: The Ninja Turtles are not mine.**

 **A/N: So I have decided to do the 100 theme challenge (thanks for talking me into it, FirebirdScratches!) These will all take places in different incarnations, wherever I get inspiration (1987, 2003, 2007 movie, and 2012). I will be sure to put the universe in an A/N. This first one is going to span all four, with each one featuring a turtle from that universe, and thus is longer than most of the rest will be.**

 **001\. Intro**

 **1987 - Donatello**

Sometimes Donatello wondered why he even bothered.

His family was gathered in his lab for the unveiling of his latest invention, and the genius was already beginning to feel discouraged. It didn't help that Raphael had jokingly donned a fire fighter suit for the event ("Just in case…") and that Michelangelo was clearly more interested in his slice of pizza and the latest Bugman comic. Leonardo was politely attempting to be attentive, but a slight distracted glaze in his eyes had broken through his collected exterior.

Donatello knew he shouldn't let it get to him too much; they just didn't understand. If circumstances were different...for a rare, fleeting moment, the brainiac wished he were human and able to mingle amongst his scientific peers. But life was what it was, and his brothers were who they were. There was no changing them, and as a unit they completed each other, their differences making them the perfect crime fighting team.

Donatello took a deep steadying breath as he reached for the sheet covering his newest invention. He cleared his throat to get his brothers' attention. The genius' unsure gaze flickered over his siblings, and locking with those of his sensei. As if sensing his purple masked son's unease, his mouth curled up at the corners in a reassuring smile. His eyes glittered with pride.

Letting out the breath, and feeling more confident under Splinter's accepting gaze, the genius pulled off the cover and announced, "Greetings, gentlemen...Introducing...my latest invention…"

 **2003 - Michelangelo**

"Raphie! Oh Raaaappppphhhhhiiiiiieeeeeee!"

Michelangelo's sing-song call carried into the den area of the lair. Raphael cringed from his seat on the couch. Mikey's voice could cut through anything, sadly even the wrestling match the hotheaded turtle was attempting to watch.

Raphael grumbled in irritation as he whipped his head around, his mask tails swinging onto his plastron from the momentum.

"Wadda you want? This had betta be good," Raph snapped at his younger brother as the light hearted turtle came into view at the arm of the couch.

Michelangelo had what appeared to be a book clutched protectively in his hands and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet in barely contained excitement. His eyes were wide and they sparkled like twin stars.

He grinned so wide, it felt strained upon his cheeks.

"Have no worries, bro!" Mikey said encouragingly. "This is _better_ than good! This is _awesome_! This is _epic_! This is -"

"Out with it already!" Raph growled. "I'm missin' the match here!" He gestured angrily at the wall of TVs.

Michelangelo flopped down next to his older brother, causing Raphael to sink down into the couch further from the added weight.

"Well…" Michelangelo began. If it was possible, his smile had grown even more expansive. His teeth glimmered in the flickering of the televisions. "Remember the time we all got zapped into alternate dimensions by Ultimate Drako?"

"Yes…" Raphael replied impatiently.

"And remember how I told you guys that I got put in a world where us Ninja Turtles were super heroes?"

" _Yes…"_

"And remember how -"

" _Mikey!_ " Raphael ground out through gritted teeth. " _Get. To. The. Point!"_

The energetic youngest sibling was not perturbed by Raphael. His huge grin refused to dissipate and his elated energy buzzed around him like an erratic hive of bees.

"Fine...fine...spoil the build up why dontcha?!" Michelangelo frowned playfully. Without hesitation, he held up the book he had been holding onto. "I made a comic of the Super Turtles! Wanna read it?"

From the brief glance he gave the cover which Michelangelo was proudly displaying, Raphael had to admit to himself that the artwork was quite good...for being drawn by a numbskull, of course. Not that he was willing to admit that out loud.

"Mikey," Raphael lowered the volume on the TVs and placed the remote on the couch next to himself. "Comics aren't really my thing, bro. Maybe you could ask Donnie to take a look at it? He's inta that nerdy stuff like you are."

Michelangelo's eyes flickered with a mix of hurt and disappointment.

"I came to you first cuz I really wanted to show it to you, Raph," Michelangelo said, his voice downtrodden. "I seriously worked really hard on it...this isn't some goofy thing I threw together."

His customary cheery demeanor deflated like a balloon.

Michelangelo's hurt expression cut Raphael to the core and he felt his emotional walls crumble, as only his baby brother could do to him.

"Alright, Mikey," Raph's gruff voice was softer than usual. "You gonna show me or not?"

Mikey perked up and the light returned to his eyes. He scooted closer to his brother, his exuberance rebounding in full force. His upbeat spirit was contagious and even the moody Raphael found himself smiling.

Michelangelo turned the first page. "Hang onto your shell, Raphie! Introducing…"

 **2007 - Raphael**

"Are you ready, Raphael? For I cannot assist you until you are fully committed to helping yourself," Splinter inquired as he lit the last candle in the dojo.

Raphael nodded slowly from his place on the tatami mat. Sitting with his legs crossed, he let out a long breath, attempting to relax his normally tense muscles. It was proving to be more difficult than the temperamental ninja had anticipated. He let out a soft growl in frustration, which caused his whole body to go rigid in response to the sudden release of adrenalin. His heart beat against his plastron, his emotions escalating further at his ineptitude at even basic meditation.

Coming to sit by his second eldest son, Splinter noted the tightness in Raphael's shoulders. Raphael's eyes were screwed shut, his expression both pained and in deep concentration.

The sensei placed a comforting hand on Raphael's shoulder. The muscles involuntarily twitched under his touch.

"Raphael," the ninja master spoke up, "you must let go of your anger and self doubt if you wish to begin to seek peace. Center yourself and learn to work with the fire of your spirit instead of letting it consume you. Your passion and fire are what make you unique amongst your brothers. Until you learn to accept it as a strength - instead of a shame - you will never be at peace with yourself. Feed the flames with what matters, instead of fuelling it with what enrages you."

"Hai, sensei," Raphael replied, his voice strained.

How could he learn to let go? What _right_ did he have to let go? After all the mistakes he had made, the pain his anger had caused? Memories of his fight with Leo, his neglect of Mikey, his disrespect of Splinter, and his mistreatment of Donnie tore at his conscious and reopened the tortured wounds of his soul.

"Your determination rivals that of Leonardo," Splinter said gently. "I _know_ you have the inner strength to do this."

Raphael ground his teeth at being compared to Leonardo. He hated that... _feeling_ like he was living in the shadow of his perfect older brother; never bright enough to shine on his own; ever skulking; ever hidden.

"You are not him, Raphael," Splinter commented, as if reading Raph's mind. "I am not comparing you to him. I only wish for you to draw confidence from your similarities. What do you admire about Leonardo?"

Raphael's brow furrowed in deep thought. How was this going to help? How would going over how great Leonardo was do anything but remind Raphael of what a screw up he was?

The familiar anger boiled under his skin; blazed through his veins. His hands clenched and unclenched as he fought to remain under control.

"F- father," he choked, his voice thick with anguish. "I - I don't -"

"Breath, Raphael," Master Splinter instructed soothingly. "Let your breaths be a calming breeze and not a destructive hurricane."

Raphael slowed his breathing, focusing on each breath. He pictured Leonardo in his mind, fragments and years swirling in a dizzying kaleidoscope.

"His - his honor...his bravery...his passion...his loyalty...his strength...his courage…" Raphael's voice dipped to a lower, as if weighted down by everything Leonardo was and he clearly was _not._

Splinter positioned himself in front of his son, and placed a hand on each side of Raphael's face. "Now, my son, look at me."

Not one for physical contact, Raphael found himself tensing again. He had to push back the urge to move away. His amber eyes locked with Splinter's.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you, Raphael?"

Raphael shook his head languidly. He swallowed heavily, his mouth dry.

"I see: honor, bravery, passion, loyalty, strength, and courage...but as _you_. In only the way _you_ bring it to the family. _Not_ as Leonardo. I have never wanted you to be Leonardo, my son. You have been competing with him for so long, trying to differentiate yourself, yet also _be_ him at the same time, that you lost yourself along the way. We all love you for _you,_ Raphael."

Raphael tore his head out of Splinter's grasp and averted his gaze guiltily to the side. He was experiencing more emotion that he was able to process, and his chest heaved with the effort.

"I - I have trouble seeing that, Father," Raphael admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just get so angry...I ruin everything...I -"

"That's why we are here, my son. And if you are ready, I can help you. This is not going to be an easy path. You are going to have to face yourself instead of running away like you have for so long."

Splinter had faith in him, that much Raphael knew. He supposed it was a start.

"I'm ready."

"Then let's begin."

 **2012 - Leonardo**

It was late; way past the time when any of them should have been awake. Despite this fact, it was no surprise to Leonardo that Donatello's bed was empty. It was a common occurrence for the genius to be up late tinkering in his lab…

 _Only we aren't home,_ Leonardo thought to himself morosely as he softly opened the front door to the farmhouse.

The leader didn't have to search far for his younger brother. Donnie was sitting on the porch steps, his form silhouetted against the dark backdrop of night. He was gazing up at the sky, causing his mask tails to to almost reach his belt.

"Mind if I join you?" Leonardo asked as he came up behind Donatello.

"Hmm? Oh sure," the genius replied distractedly. He reached down next to himself to move a pair of binoculars to his other side to make room for his sibling.

"What are you doing?"

Donatello didn't answer the question for a few silent minutes, his expression a mix of wistfulness and deep contemplation.

"It's amazing how much clearer the sky is out here in the country," Donatello commented, almost to himself. He paused for a moment. "How many more stars we can see."

Leonardo drew his own attention skyward and nodded in agreement. Realizing that Donnie probably didn't see the motion, he let out a hum in acknowledgment.

"It truly is a wonder, how fathomless it is. Billions of galaxies, each with billions of stars...and here we are like a tiny grains of sand on an eternal beach."

Leonardo gave his brother a slight grin. "I never knew there was a touch of philosopher in you, Donnie."

Donatello turned his attention away from the sky and looked at his brother. "I guess I'm just channelling my inner Master Splinter…" He had mentioned their missing father without even really thinking about it, and his voice cracked painfully when his mind had caught up to his words. He averted his gaze and turned it to the beat up binoculars he had just about forgotten.

"I miss him too, Donnie," Leonardo said, picking up on how Donatello had shut down.

Without addressing Leonardo's comment, Donatello carefully picked up the binoculars and began fiddling with them nervously. He was skirting the issue, treading around it despite the reality that it was a sizable elephant in the living room of their lives.

"A-april found these for me in the attic."

He handed them to his brother.

"They are old, but they still function adequately."

He went about explaining how they worked to the leader, his voice strained with barely contained emotion. He choked it down behind every measured word.

"They're not a telescope by any means, but I have found them to be engaging in their own way. You can see even more stars if you look through them into the sky," Donatello concluded.

Leonardo grasped them firmly in his hands and put them up to his eyes. Donatello was correct and he was able to observe many more stars than he was able to without.

"Remember when Splinter got you a telescope for our twelfth mutation day?"

Donatello nodded numbly, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

"And you were so excited that you fixed it up immediately, only to realize that it was a few years before you'd ever be able to really use it for its intended purpose?"

A ghost of a smile flitted onto Donnie's mouth, as the memories played in his mind. He snorted a slight chuckle.

"Pirate Captain Mikey got more use out of it than I ever did."

"Do you still have it?"

"Yes, I do...somewhere in my lab."

"When we get home...we should take it out and use it."

Donatello's smile faded into obscurity at reality came crashing back down on his shoulders like a leaden cape.

" _Leo…"_ anything else he was going to say trailed off, but what the genius didn't say spoke more to the leader than what he had said. _If we even have a home left to go to._

"Don't act as if there is some happy ending waiting for us in New York. That would be something Mikey would say."

Leonardo gazed fixedly at his brother, a maelstrom swirling in the oceanic depths of his eyes.

"We don't know what the outcome will be, Donnie. There is no happy ending...there is no sad ending...for nothing ever truly ends...but it can't hurt to hope a little."

When had Leonardo become so wise?

"Now you sound like the philosopher…" Donatello asserted.

"Just channeling my inner Master Splinter," Leonardo smirked.

Donatello allowed himself another small grin despite himself.

The brothers both wordlessly turned their gazes back to silent sky. And just like the sky, their own story had no beginning...and no end.


	2. Smile

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Alas and woe is me.**

 **A/N: This takes place in the 2007 'verse, while Leo was gone. Only warning is Raphie's potty mouth.**

 **002\. Smile**

" _And just where do you think you have been?"_

The question cut through the air, cold and bitter like stale coffee. In the otherwise silent lair, the words suspended themselves in the atmosphere, hovering on heavy wings like a legendary dragon ready to attack an unsuspecting castle.

" _Out."_

The reply was equally acrimonious, gruff and harsh; a single word, but carried with it the undercurrents of a challenge which rippled under the surface like a dangerous undertow.

The tension was already beginning to rise, and it weighed upon Mikey from his spot on the couch. He shut off his GameDude and peered over the back of the sofa, already knowing what he would see. His reaction at this point was automatic.

 _Oh bros..._ he thought grievously as he witnessed what was becoming an all too familiar occurrence.

Standing next to his chair at his workstation and still wearing his headset, Donatello was a few feet away from Raphael. The brothers were staring each other down like two poised snakes, each waiting for the other to strike.

The longer Leonardo was away, the more common these confrontations between Don and Raph were becoming. The two had never really argued previously, but the stress Donatello refused to admit to being under, and the worry and anger Raphael refused to admit to feeling broiled underneath their skin and took form in their vicious behavior toward each other.

Mikey was forced to watch, hovering on the sidelines. Neither of his brothers realized how much their actions were affecting him. It was as if any joy that had ever been in their home had been sapped away, sucked into an unforgiving black hole.

"You do realize that you have been gone for _three days,_ right?" Donatello finally spoke up, tossing his headset on to his desktop. His brown eyes narrowed.

" _Yah, so?"_ Raphael responded nonchalantly, as if his absence was nothing. He crossed his arms across his plastron, further fortifying the unscalable wall which had been erected between the two of them for months now.

" _Three days, Raph!"_ Donatello shot back, the strain evident on the fringes of his tone. He was attempting to remain calm, attempting to mask his upset, but was failing fast. His body had begun to quiver under the emotional strain. "I tried to call you...we didn't know if you were hurt...or captured...or dead in a gutter somewhere!"

Raphael shrugged. "Well, brainiac, I'm here now, I'm fine, so it's all good. So _lay the fuck off_ and stop actin' like a mommy turtle obsessing over her clutch of eggs."

" _Actually_ ," Donatello punctuated the word, "female turtles lay their eggs and leave their young to fend for themselves. I, on the other hand, have a human sense of familial bond and am concerned when one of my brothers goes _missing without a word for three days!_ Would it have killed you to just call and check in? Just tell us where you were or if you were alright? _"_

His exasperation with Raphael was growing. Mikey watched as his fists clenched at his sides. The youngest brother had a hard time watching his once calm and mellow genius of a brother so easily riled.

"I already got a GPS on my ShellCell, Donnie, I don't need you turning into one too," Raphael snapped sarcastically.

"What part of this don't you understand, Raph?"

"Oh I understand perfectly well. You're turnin' into a _fuckin' nag_!" Raphael growled resentfully. His own mood was escalating as well, his tense, bunched muscles coiling and rolling under his skin.

"I'm _trying_ to look out for you, _Raphael!"_ Donatello fired back, his tone rising.

Catching sight of Mikey watching them from the den out of his peripheral vision, Raph bellowed over to him, "Hey Mikey…" The hothead never took his eyes off of the genius, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I gotta monster movie for ya...it's called 'Leonardo: The Sequel, Attack of the Harpy'."

Mikey started at the unexpected address, his legs kicking out and knocking something to the floor. Pulling his eyes away from his arguing siblings, he viewed his "Cowabunga Carl" mask staring blankly back at him, the huge, eternal grin it wore completely at odds with the venom that filled the air.

He kicked it spitefully and grumbled at it, "What're you smiling at?"

The mask took off for a few feet, rolling back and forth a few times before landing much the same way it was before, grinning at Mikey like a mocking Cheshire cat. Mikey whipped his head around, focusing his attention back on his brothers again. It was hard looking at that stupid mask. Was anyone ever _really_ that happy?

 _Was I ever that happy?_ Mikey questioned himself lamely.

"You know, Raphael," Donatello continued his tirade. "This _disrespect_ is ridiculous and _completely_ uncalled for! Mikey and I are working our shells off here, and you come and go like you don't have a care in the world. _Must be nice to do nothing."_ It was Donatello's turn to cross his arms tightly.

The accusing tone Donatello's last statement made almost sent Raphael's teetering temper over the edge. " _I don't do nuthin_ ," his voice was low and warning; dangerous like the rumblings of a volcano before erupting.

He was so defensive that it made Mikey wonder what exactly it was that his brother was doing while he was out. He definitely wasn't playing vigilante with Casey. Donatello had spoken to April and her boyfriend many times over the last couple of days and neither of them had seen the red masked turtle. So where…?

"You're right, Raph," Donatello said facetiously, "you've taken doing nothing to a whole new level. There's not even a word in the English language that I can use to approximate it right now."

"I do more than you know." Raphael hissed through clenched teeth.

"Then _what_ is it exactly do you do, besides treating your _family_ like cast aside trash with no regard for their feelings?"

" _I_ -"

For a moment, Raphael appeared like he was going to say something but then thought better of it. His mouth clenched shut, his jaw muscles working tautly as his teeth ground together. He took a slow, heavy step closer to Donatello, his hands balling into tight fists. Donatello's eyes widened slightly and flickered nervously to his brother's hands, but he stood his ground.

"If you don't _shut the fuck up_ real soon, Donnie, I'm going to make you wish I was gone longer…"

When Raphael took another step toward Donatello, and the genius swallowed anxiously, Mikey decided that enough was enough. He normally did not put himself in the middle of their spats, but Raphael was coming very close to crossing a line that the youngest brother knew he would regret.

He leapt to his feet with a skateboarder's grace and grabbed his mask off the floor. He bound over to his brothers and shoved the large turtle head roughly into Raphael's hands. Instinctively, Raph grabbed onto it. His anger momentarily forgotten, he turned his attention to Mikey, a flabbergasted expression on his face. Donatello wore a similar befuddled expression, his brow furrowing in thought.

"Wha?" Raphael questioned bewilderedly. "Wha the hell you givin' me this for, Mikey?"

" _That's enough!"_ Mikey said sharply.

Mikey glanced back and forth between his brothers a few times, his baby blue eyes darkening like the sea before a storm. He gestured toward his mask.

"You dudes could learn a lesson from that guy," he said gravely. The customary jovial, joking tone to his voice was absent, instead replaced by a maturity that the other brothers rarely heard from him.

Mikey turned around stiffly, his orange mask tails flinging themselves around from the twirling motion. Leaving the mask in Raphael's hands, he made his way back over to the couch. Without looking back, he finished, "That dude at least remembers how to smile."

 **A/N: I know "GameDude" and "ShellCell" are from the 2k3 show, but I like them so much that they are here too.**


	3. Dark

**Disclaimer: TMNT are not mine. They belong to Nick.**

 **A/N: This takes place during the Turtles Forever movie...so it's a mix of 2003 and 1987. To differentiate between the two Michelangelo's, 2003 Mike will be called Mikey. 1987 Mike will be called Michelangelo (since they didn't go by nicknames on that show anyways).**

 **003\. Dark**

Being a ninja, Mikey was at home in the dark. From a young age, he had been taught to be at one with the shadows; to wrap himself in their protective depths and use them as a blanket of stealth.

But on this night, the dark felt suddenly awkward and cumbersome. As exhausted as he was, sleep eluded him, no matter how many pizzas he counted in his mind.

Mikey was still having trouble grasping the fact that his current bunkmate for the night was a mutant turtle...who wasn't one of his brothers...and strangely bore the same name as himself.

 _I'm sharing my room with myself...but he's not myself...but in a way he_ is _myself..._ Mikey pondered to himself. _Awww...this is all so weird, it's making my head hurt!_ He grasped the sides of his head and shook it back and forth in disbelief.

The rustling of the sheets from across the room alerted Mikey to the fact that Michelangelo was having just as much difficulty sleeping as he was.

Turning in the direction of his dimensional doppleganger Mikey asked, "You ok over there...uh...Michelangelo?"

There was a pause for a few moments followed by more shuffling in the sheets before the subdued response came, "Of course, dude, totally bodacious." The distant tone was completely at odds with the spoken words.

 _He even speaks like me..._ Mikey shivered. The darkness of his room pressed upon him like Raphael's weights in the dojo.

"It's just that…" Michelangelo spoke again after many dragging moments of silence passed between the two. "It's not that my bros and I aren't thankful that you dudes are letting us crash here while we figure out this whole bogus situation...and your pad is definitely righteous…" he trailed off, mulling over his words. "I just miss home...and my own bed...and my comics...and my pizzas…"

"You...you like comics?" Mikey felt himself brighten a little.

"Do I?" Michelangelo replied, his previously despondent tone growing more confident. "Dude, I am the master of comics! I own every single issue of _Bugman,_ including all the variant covers, and they are all in mint condition!"

"That's awesome! I collect comics too! _Silver Sentry, Justice Force_ …"

"I knew you were a cool dude…" Mikey could hear the smile in Michelangelo's voice. "My bros don't like comics much. The didn't even believe me at first when I told them that Bugman was real and I teamed up with him…"

"...And mine didn't believe that I had teamed up with Silver Sentry until they saw it on the news…"

"They just don't take me seriously sometimes!" the orange masked duo complained in unison.

They both chuckled, the tension in the darkness of Mikey's bedroom lifting. Mikey found himself able to focus on the sliver of light that filtered in under his door.

"You like to skateboard, Michelangelo?

"You could bet your shell on it, dude!"

There was no hiding the excitement in Mikey's tone. "Tomorrow...we are totally going to shred some pipes!"

"Cowabunga! That's mondo tubular, dude! And I'll teach you how to cook a mean jellybean and artichoke pizza…"

 _Cowabunga…_ Mikey smirked as the word echoed playfully in his mind. How many times had Raph warned him to never "cowabunga"?

"And I'll introduce you to my kitty, Klunk!"

"Cats are great, dude...I just can't have one since Master Splinter doesn't dig'm...it's like the one thing he's afraid of."

Mikey snickered. "I suppose a mutant rat not liking cats makes sense…" he said thoughtfully.

The more they spoke, the more Mikey realized they had in common. Suddenly, the the similarities between him and Michelangelo didn't seem so daunting...and the dark not so uncomfortable.

 _Maybe I'll have to add an initialed belt buckle to my Turtle Titan outfit..._ was Mikey's last thought before he drifted off into a peaceful slumber. _Cowabunga..._


	4. Light

**Disclaimer: Nick owns the TMNT, not me. I just write this for fun.**

 **A/N: 2012 'verse, and my first attempt at Raph's POV. Takes place before the start of Season 3, at the farmhouse while Leo was in his coma.**

 **004\. Light**

" _Don't let the sun go down on me,_

 _Although I search myself,_

 _It's always someone else I see._

 _I'd just allow a fragment of your life to wander free._

 _But losing everything,_

 _Is like the sun going down on me."_

 _-Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me by Elton John_

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

I remember when Leo and I were small. Nine maybe. I had managed to convince Leo that it would be a good idea to sneak out super early in the morning so we could see the sunrise. I still don't know how I managed to talk Mr. Goodie-Goodie into that one.

Splinter forbade us to go to the surface, and Leo was always sure to be all preachy about it too, like a stick was shoved way too far up his shell.

But somehow, on the first day of summer, I talked him into coming out with me. We had never _really_ seen the sunrise before. And I really wanted to. I think _he_ really wanted to as well...and just needed me to give him the nudge to go.

We had heard Splinter's stories about the sunrise, we had seen it on the TV, seen rays of sun filtering into the dojo, but there was _nothing_ like seeing it for the first time face to face.

Being ninjas, and raised to be at home in the shadows, sunsets are something that we have seen a lot. And it's nothing like a sunrise. Sunsets are darker; colder...like an unwanted ending...but the sunrise...

I'm not poetic or anything, that's sissy Mikey stuff, but it was awesome. The warmth, the colors, and the light. And I'll never forget that goofy grin that Leo smiled as the rays first hit his face. I miss it. I miss our home.

I miss _him._

The lighting in this old farmhouse bathroom sucks. Its at a side of the house that doesn't get much light, and those old musty curtains block what little sun tries to sneak its way in. Only one stupid light bulb works in here, and it's probably like a -10 watt thing or something.

I can see the sun when I go out and train, but it's not the same. The sun is different here, in this dumb country air. I'm used to the sun through the smoggy city haze, the colors drawn out and melding together.

Most of the time I'm in here, anyways. Someone has to be here when he wakes up. Someone's gotta protect him, like he protected us.

I mindlessly dribble the warm bath water Leo's motionless body in the same robotic ritual I have repeated endlessly since we came to this place a few months ago.

I watch the rise and fall of his plastron as he breathes. It seems trivial and stupid to be giving my attention to something like that, but otherwise he's so still. _Too still._ And cold. We're cold blooded n' whatnot, and blah blah something Donatello had explained a long time ago but I tuned it out...but it doesn't feel natural for him to be so _cold._

He's still and cold like...

I snarl at the thought. This just isn't right. None of it's right. It's all one big fuckin' nightmare I can't wake up from.

 _Leo...come back to us bro…_

My mind is going through some dark places I'd rather it not.

A hesitant knock at the door breaks my concentration.

"What?" I bark harsher than I should.

But like most of what I do, it just comes out. Mind over matter is not my forte. Words before thoughts? Fortunately or unfortunately, that's more my style. Take your pick.

The ancient bathroom door creaks open a few inches and Donnie peers in. He's nervous; afraid of waking the sleeping giant, I suppose. They've all been walking on eggshells around me lately.

"Umm…" he begins, with typical Donnie awkward seeping into his words. "Lunch is ready and Mikey isn't here...so...could you get him?"

"Why can't you, brainiac?" I growl.

He's trying to get me to leave the bathroom. I'm onto their game. I may be dense at times, but I'm not stupid. They're all in on it; saying it's not healthy for me to be holed up in here all the time. But Leo needs me...I can't leave'm. I can't leave'm like we had to leave Master Splinter...like we had to leave our home. _Why can't they see that?_

Rage curls in my gut. A familiar emotion, but not one that I am very welcome to feeling right now. I need my mind to be clear. For Leo. Donnie isn't helping matters at all. I'm fine. Leo's the one who's not fine.

"You're way more...persuasive than I am," Donnie tries.

"Mikey doesn't need any persuading when food's involved," I snort. "So back the fuck off."

The egghead cringes at my language. Splinter obviously never liked such...colorful words, but he's not here right now, and I need to get my point across.

"You need to get out more, Raph," Donnie's voice is soft. "You're not doing anyone any good by not taking care of yourself. You need to keep up your strength. All this obsessive training and long hours with Leo while not taking in proper sustenance, or getting proper sleep…"

"Leo's our leader," I snap, "I don't need you tellin' me what to do!"

"I'm not telling you what to do, Raphael."

He's trying to stay calm, but I can hear the vexation in the fringes of his tone. For all the things Donnie and I _don't_ have in common, a fiery temper ain't one of them.

"Sure sounds like it!" I shoot back. "Leo needs me. What if he wakes up, and no one's here? You spend all day in the barn doin' whatever shit you've been doin; Mikey spends all day playing Ol' McDonald's farm…"

Donnie sighs, and it sounds heavy, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. It's like a sick reflection of how I feel right now. Like there's lead in my stomach; or like I'm wearin' a pair of designer concrete shoes.

"I'll stay here with him, Raph. You go get Mikey and eat some lunch. Then come back. _If_ anything changes...You'll be the first I tell. Ok?"

I don't like the emphasis he put on the word "if". There's a finality to it that doesn't sit well in my mind. There's a protest on the tip of my tongue, but the incessant growling of my stomach pushes it away. Part of me knows Donnie is right, but that doesn't make it any easier.

I rise awkwardly to my feet from my crouching position, my legs feeling numb from being in the same spot for so long. I cast one last look at Leo before pushing forcefully by Donnie and mumbling a quick "thanks" to the dork. I'm not even sure if he hears me, and frankly I don't care.

I stomp my way down the stairs in the opposite fashion of ninja stealth. It's my way of letting everyone in the house know that I am protesting their actions. I can hear Leo's voice in my head telling me that I'm being a drama queen, and then my own voice cutting some snarky retort…

 _Will I ever hear his voice again?_

My throat clenches.

And once again I push it away.

In the living room, Casey is watching Crognard and I can hear April clattering around in the kitchen. I'm not in the mood to speak with either of them, so I pass on by and head to the front door. I can hear Jones calling to me as I slam the front door behind me, but I ignore him.

Spring just began, so the weather is beginning to warm up. The grass brushes my feet and wedges between my toes as I trudge a few steps into the front yard. I scan the area for my pipsqueak brother and grumble in frustration when I see no sign of him.

The chickens are pecking around the barn making those annoying clucking sounds, and the only other sound I can hear is the moaning of the wind as it scratches its way through the still naked trees. It's not like the little nerd to be so quiet, so he's either far away (which will make this harder than I really feel like contending with at the moment) or has found something truly weird to occupy his stupidly short attention span.

I raise my hands to my mouth to amplify my voice and call out, "MIKEY! WHERE ARE YOU?"

If there's one thing my big mouth is good for is being a makeshift megaphone. Cuts searching time in half, and is great for putting little brothers in their place.

I get no reply, but a green arm rising from the longer grass at the edge of the woods catches my attention. A three fingered hand waves at me in an acknowledgement to my call. I head over to the moving limb as if it's a lighthouse in a stormy sea.

When I reach Mikey, I see that he's lying in the grass, arms and legs spread so he's taking up as much space as possible. His blue eyes are fixated on the sky and his mouth is upturned at the sides in a slight, contented smile.

"'Sup, brah?" Mikey asks smoothly.

His calmness pisses me off. How can he just be out here like this, relaxing in the grass as if he doesn't have a care in the world? When in fact the world and everything else in our lives has gone to shit?

I cross my arms tightly across my plastron, its hardness pushing into my flesh.

"Lunch is ready, dorkenstein," I state simply, not hiding the frustration in my tone.

"That one looks like Ice Cream Kitty, doncha think?" Mikey inquires lazily.

"What?" My eyes widen, and I'm taken aback. Mikey is prone to spouting randomness out of his beak, but this is just weird...even for him.

He points up to a lumpy cloud in the sky.

He then rolls his head languidly to the side and regards me with a joyful, toothy smile. The clouds which are moving through the sky are reflected in his eyes.

My little brother's peacefulness makes the anger lance through me and marks me like a glowing brand. I uncross my arms jerkily and my hands form tightly clenched fists at my sides. My muscles quiver, coiled like a snake ready to strike.

Mikey has no right to feel this way.

To be this way.

 _To be happy._

When _I'm…_

 _When Leo's…._

That orange masked idiot has _no right._

"No, dumbass, it looks like a giant fucking squirrel, now come on. I don't have time for this crap," I'm pissed, and I want to make sure he knows it.

Mikey shudders as his eyes screw shut. There is no mistaking the momentary flash of anxiety that crosses over his face. That moron is ridiculously afraid of squirrels. I think I upset him. Whatever. He needs to grow a pair. And if he _dares_ to say that the cloud looks like a cockroach, I'll pound his head so far down his shell he'll be eating pizza on the toilet. Not that I'm _afraid_ of them or anything. They're just gross. And creepy. And nasty.

"Didn't you hear me, Mikey? Donnie told me to come get you, so if I don't come back with you, I'll have to listen to him go on a tangent about how skipping meals is bad for you or some other related gibberish," I raise my voice and crack my knuckles to get my point across. "So are you going to come willingly, or do I have to drag you by your disgusting smelly feet?"

" _Fine,"_ he stands up and pouts, putting on that stupid face he does when he's making it known that he doesn't want to do something, but knows that I will kick his ass if he doesn't "But my feet aren't disgusting and smelly, brah. Stubby, Joey Nails, Captain Pinky take offense to that. Come to think of it, the stinky triplets are smelly...but they aren't disgusting."

I grab his puny mask tails and start to drag him along. This delaying crap is ridiculous. He lets out a girly squeak in surprise, his feet stumbling to keep up.

" _Raph, wait!"_ he protests. I stop mid step, let go, and turn around harshly. The glare I am giving him right how is perfect. I wish I had a mirror. He flinches slightly, probably waiting for me to pummel him...I've trained him well.

"WHAT? This had better be good, dork," I growl.

"You didn't tell me what you thought the cloud looks like!" he says quietly.

I face palm and run the hand slowly down my face where it falls heavily to my side.

 _Seriously?_

Whatever, I'll humor his empty head. Gotta give it the right effect, though. I put on my best mockery of Donnie's science nerd face and put a hand on my chin. I stare at the dumb cloud, the sun behind it shooting out its rays like my favorite video game.

 _That one Leo and I always used to play…_

My eyes narrow in anger. I cannot deal with this shit now.

"It looks like stupid," I grind out finally.

Mikey get this really absurd look on his face, like the gears are churnnin' in there, but nobody's home to keep them from rusting out of their sockets.

"How can something look like stupid?" he asks, scratching his head.

"When it looks like your face." Oooo good one, Raphael.

He flinches, and pouts again. There's an unshed rim of tears in his eyes.

Okay...maybe not so good.

He doesn't normally react like this...what's his deal today?

"Whassamatta?" I ask, trying to keep the tone of concern out of my voice. I really do love my midget of a brother...but I have a rep to keep, of course. Street cred and all that as Mikey would say.

Mikey sniffs and blinks away those tears before they fall. He becomes really quiet.

"We never really got to see the sun much at home," he remarks with a strange seriousness that isn't normal for him.

"Yah... _so_?"

What is he gettin at?

He shrugs and glances away from me, digging at the ground with one of his feet.

"Well, dude," he mutters, as if he's embarrassed or something. "I decided that while we are out here, I want to see the sun as much as possible. I want to remember it, y'know, every detail. I wanna be able to tell Leo about it. I've watched the sunrise, and the sun set, and the clouds..."

I freeze at the mention of Leo. Even though I am with him most of the time, and he is on my mind _all_ the time, hearing my brothers and friends speak of him drives the reality of his condition home more.

It pisses me off more than anything the way they pussyfoot around me and try to act all hopeful when I can tell they don't think Leo will ever open his eyes again. I'm not fooled for a second. The way Casey avoids me...the way April's smiles seem devoid of life...and the hopelessness buried in Donnie's eyes all tell me the truth they dare not say. I know they are doing it for my sake because they care and all that, but I would rather they just come out and say their thoughts straight to my face. I haven't busted their chops for it yet, but the time is coming. My patience with this is surprising even myself. I guess I am focusing all my energy on my older brother. Because I _know_ he's going to wake up again. It's only a matter of time. He _has_ to. There's just no other option. _Period_.

I feel as if the sun is setting and the darkness is gathering around me. Twilight fading into night. So much has changed lately, that it really is like the sun set on one life, and is refusing to rise for another. My dad is gone, my brother is gone, my home is gone...and all I have left are shadows. Shadows of memory and shadows of family. I cannot beat the shit out of shadows. All I can do is stand in them and think about them. And it sucks. _Fucking_ sucks.

I'm thinking so much that I'm getting a headache. It burns behind my eyes and I realize just how drained and exhausted I feel. I definitely missed the tail end of what Mikey was saying. Not that it's hard to do. The goober babbles on so much that I have no other option just to tune him out or go crazy in the process. It's hard to listen to Mikey's weirdness without being drawn into it yourself. And I am all set with imagining that cupcakes are magical and being upset that leprechauns are not real.

When I finally focus on what Mikey is saying again I hear, "...when he wakes up."

 _When?_

I need to make sure I heard that correctly.

"What, Mikey?" I ask, and it's a real question. No sarcasm, no snarkiness, just me.

"I was saying that I wanna tell Leo when he wakes up. It's dark and dingy in that bathroom...he'll need something to lift his spirits."

There is was again.

 _When._

 _When he wakes up._

I've said it more times than I can count, but hearing Mikey say it is a validation that I have needed. Trust Mikey to _understand._ For a dork he's not so bad.

I allow my attitude to drop for a few minutes. Truthfully, I know he's hurting just as much as I am. And he's doing an amazing job of hiding it, too. Mikey can be emotional at times and he's been just as obnoxiously chipper as ever here. For the benefit of everyone else, I am sure. An act. A mask. But, after everything we have been through, my little brother is smiling right now, and it's a genuine smile. Not that half-hearted shit Donnie tries to give me, or that one full of unexpressed pity that April throws my way.

"That's right, Mikey," I think I crack a small smile. Very small. Like one you could only see under Donnie's microscope. " _When._ Now let's head back, little bro. We can eat lunch with Leo and you can tell him about the sunrise. Leave the sun set outta it for now."

Mikey nods and starts going back to the farmhouse with me. I put my arm around his shoulder and give him a noogie. I think he understands. Out of everyone here...I can count on him to understand.

Like I said before, I'm not a pansy poet...but Mikey just became my sunrise.


	5. Heaven

**Disclaimer: TMNT do not belong to me.**

 **005: Heaven**

 **1987 Turtles: When they are about 4 years old. Turtle-tots :) The inspiration for this one was the 1987 Episode "The Missing Map" In it, the Turtles are showing Zach and his brother, Walt, their scrapbook, and one of the items in it is the crust of the first piece of pizza that Michelangelo ever ate (eew). I thought it would be sweet if there was a deeper meaning to his obsession with pizza.**

Splinter grimaced at the food in disgust. To his sensitive nose, it smelled awful, and it looked even worse. Globs of grease were congealing in bowls of pepperoni while soggy, shriveled green peppers lined the surface above a mass of cheese. It appeared so unappealing, that his stomach churned at the thought of ingesting it.

 _Pizza._

It was a popular food in this country, but even back when he was human he had never been able to develop a liking for the circular dish. It was heavy and sloppy and slinked down the throat in a way that reminded him of a shifty cat gliding through the shadows. As a rat, Splinter didn't like cats much.

Or pizza.

He carefully closed the lid to the box and gathered it in his arms. Despite the fact that he found the food distasteful, it was still a fortuitous find for the young turtles back at home. When scavenging for food and supplies, it was not often that he came across food that was not canned or in a box that had not spoiled.

He rushed back to the lair as swiftly as he was able, not liking to leave the boys alone for long periods of time. He tried to stick to foraging when the youngsters were sleeping, but even then he did so in multiple short trips. The turtles would sometimes awaken in the middle of the night, and he did not desire for that to happen while he was away.

Splinter entered the lair, his whiskers twitching subconsciously as his sensitive nose tested the air around him. At times, the mutant had little control over the rat instincts that were now inherently a part of his DNA. While there were advantages to his heightened animal senses, it was still a constant reminder that he was no longer human. He lived beneath the humans, in the bowels of the Earth, where it was lonely and dark. The cold, dank sewers were like limbo; a purgatory where time had no purchase. The dirty streams of the sewers were like the mythical River Styx, ever drawing him deeper into his own personal Hades.

His heart longed for the sun, for the warmth, for the beautiful rain of cherry blossoms in his native Japan.

 _That would feel like heaven._

The only thing that kept him grounded and moving forward were the little ones he cared for. The four youngsters were his sanity, life preservers that kept him afloat in the wild maelstrom. As they flourished and bloomed into themselves, he thought of cherry blossoms. With every milestone they achieved and every inch they grew, he was reminded that time was indeed real and not the illusion that it seemed to be.

Shaking his mind clear of the thoughts, Splinter entered the kitchen and placed the pizza on the table. He placed his clawed hands on the table, noting how they trembled slightly against the cool surface. His sharp nails scraped on it gently, creating a clacking noise that seemed impossibly loud in the otherwise silent kitchen.

He was drained and exhausted, both emotionally and physically.

"Masser Spinner?"

The sensei turned at the sound of his name. A young turtle with an orange belt stood in the round doorway of the room, rubbing one of his eyes drowsily.

"Michelangelo, what are you doing out of bed?" Splinter whispered harshly. The ninja master wanted to sound as authoritative as possible without waking the three other little ones.

"I hadda nig'mare, Masser," Michelangelo said meekly, his lower lip quivering with the admission. He clutched his favorite teddy bear tightly against his plastron. The stuffed animal's head turned askew from the pressure.

Splinter sighed internally at the realization that he would not be getting to sleep any time soon. He situated himself in one of the chairs at the table and patted his lap in an invitation for the youngster to sit.

Michelangelo eagerly climbed onto the sensei's lap. He gave a sniffle and wiggled himself deeper into the folds of Splinter's kimono. He loved the feel of the soft fabric against his skin, and the way Splinter's fur tickled his head. With his free hand, he grabbed a fist full of fur in an effort to comfort himself.

Splinter subconsciously held the boy to himself with one arm and with the other placed his hand on Michelangelo's small head.

"It is alright, my son," Splinter said softly. "It was just a dream and I am here."

"It was'n'a just a dream…" Michelangelo's voice was muffled as he buried his face into the kimono. "I had a dream dat we had no food and was hung'ry cuz we are bad peeples."

Splinter's eyes widened and his ears perked up in shock. Michelangelo was typically an energetic, happy child with boundless optimism. To hear such words from him was not something the ninja master was expecting.

Splinter took a moment to compose himself and asked, "Why would you ever think that we are bad people?"

"We aren't like da peeples on the TV, Masser. An' in da cartoons, da good peeples go up to heaven and da bad peeples go down to…" the boy paused and shifted uneasily, gazing up at the elder mutant. The turtle's vibrant blue eyes appeared as watery as the sea, an ocean of unshed tears dammed in their depths. "Itssa bad word…" he concluded meekly.

Splinter knew what Michelangelo was referring to, and was proud the boy had held his tongue on that one...

"But we's down, an' da humans are up," Michelangelo's tone was forlorn and subdued, and it broke Splinter's heart to hear it. "An' since we has to stay down, we must be bad peeples."

Splinter's brow furrowed in concern as his thoughts from earlier returned to the forefront of his mind. He had just been thinking about this home that way... The boys had never been to the surface; they had never experienced it as he had. This home was all they knew, and he felt a rush of guilt for the dark turn his musings had taken before the little one had come into the kitchen.

Despite their young age, the four boys had sharply distinct personalities. Michelangelo tended to be the most emotional of the brothers, his innocence and purity of heart something Splinter did not want to tarnish.

"Michelangelo," Splinter said gently, his voice as soft as a dandelion tuft. "Heaven is many different things to many different people." Michelangelo's eyes grew wide and hopeful, the well of tears still shimmering in the kitchen light. "Do you and your brothers look at things the same way?"

Michelangelo wordlessly shook his head.

"That's right. You are all so different, and so is heaven. To some people it is just an idea, to others it is a religious place. Do not believe what you see on TV, Little One. You are far from being a bad person."

"Really?"

Splinter nodded, and the boy relaxed in his arms, fatigue beginning to once again take hold now that his concern had been addressed.

"An' we won' get hung'ry?" Michelangelo spoke up through a poorly stifled yawn.

"Food is sometimes hard to comeby, Michelangelo, but no, I will never let you boys go hungry," Splinter assured the boy.

"Tha's good cuz I'm hung'ry right now."

Splinter chuckled softly as the tot's stomach growled audibly. He reached across the table and pulled the pizza box over. It made a faint scraping sound as cardboard met wood. Michelangelo shot up eagerly, his tiredness apparently draining away, despite the late hour. One defining aspect of the boy was definitely his appetite!

Michelangelo pointed at the box and asked, "Wha's dis?"

"It's called pizza, Michelangelo," Splinter explained.

"P...i...zz...a," Michelangelo echoed slowly, the new word awkward on his lips. "Tha's a really silly word."

Splinter huffed another laugh through his muzzle and nodded, "Well, yes, I suppose it is."

Splinter opened the box and Michelangelo leaned forward in his lap to get a closer view of the new food. His eyes opened wide in wonder as he breathed in deeply to smell the dish.

"Now Michelangelo, I will allow you to have one piece, as the rest of this is for breakfast for you and your brothers."

Michelangelo nodded enthusiastically as he reached in a tiny hand to grab a slice. He picked one up and stuffed as much into his mouth as he possibly could. He began chewing with gusto before immediately going in for another bite. Splinter wondered in amusement how the boy could breathe while inhaling the food so quickly.

"Mmmm, dis pizza is like heaven, Masser!" Michelangelo commented with a mouth full of pepperoni. "I bet it would taste super duper yummy wid jellybeans an' peanut budder on it!"

Splinter rubbed Michelangelo's head affectionately. Before the turtles had come into his life, he had never been a parent, and had little experience with children. But with each passing day, he realized how much these boys meant to him, and how bright they made his life in this dark underground they were forced to call home.

 _Indeed...heaven is many different things to many different people...and these boys are my heaven._

 **A/N: A headcanon I have for the 1987 turtles is that when they were infants, Splinter was unable to tell them apart (this was also touched upon in the Archie Comic). Thus Splinter tied different colored cloth with their initial around their waists in order to tell them apart. As they grew bigger, and their individual voices and personalities developed, the color coded belts were not needed as much, but the Turtles still played homage to them by using the colors for their masks and pads.**


End file.
